


Bask In The Glory Of All Our Problems

by gunboots



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Codependency, F/F, Fade to black mentions of sex, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Odin's Bad Parenting, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pseudo-Incest, Thor and the great big old identity crisis, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunboots/pseuds/gunboots
Summary: What a strange time they reside in, Loki is the one demanding sanity while Thor feels himself fraying at the edges. Thor laughs now, mad with it, and oh, he thinks, perhaps they’ve both changed too much.





	Bask In The Glory Of All Our Problems

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically meta born out of Taika Waititi interviews and super heavy Thor discussion with twitter/discord. Also a lot of thinkpieces on the colonialism/its rebranding as 'cooperation' along with Taika commenting on Odin's bad parenting and jokingly stating Thor probably is having an identity crisis. Tbh, I wanted an excuse to show Thor and Loki adjusting to all the revelations in Ragnarok, being space refugees and Thor dealing with ruling/being kinda worried about Loki disappearing. 
> 
> Big thanks to [Span](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spirograph) for the beta, because she was already workin on post PHD fumes and she is just THE BEST. Also thanks to Hime for like keeping me company on all the THOR META and just like thanks to twitter for enduring me scream irl and online about Taika Waititi.

Once Thor dreamt of ruling Asgard.

It held the certainty of a prediction, and Thor's dream felt like it would be easily achieved—that one day, he would ascend Asgard's golden glittering city steps and he would take his place as King. That he would hold Gungnir, that Loki would be standing by his right side, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three would be to his left.

His mother and father would enjoy retirement in the splendor of the palace as Thor reigned justly and with Asgard ever prosperous. In his dream, Thor handled statecraft with ease, Loki aiding him as he delegated important decisions (for Loki always was better with the delicacies of bureaucracy). Then, Thor, Loki along with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, would win epic battles for the glory of their homeland. Asgard would expand it’s influence past the nine realms, a beacon to all.

To Thor, the only obstacle to the throne was Odin. Surely Thor was old enough to rule on his own, surely he would get the throne soon. Time seemed to stretch ever on.

And yet, the dream became a nightmare. Odin needed to stay on the throne, Thor was not ready, there seemed to be a shortage of time—Thor couldn't ascend, he didn't want to ascend. The throne became a cage.

Now, he sits in a worn chair in a stolen ship from a charismatic slaver, watching the stars fly past, leading the remnants of his people to a planet that once considered them gods. They have little left—how fitting that Thor had destroyed all that Odin had won, (had stolen), and that he would now have to establish Asgard on his own, without his father's counsel or resources.

At least, at the very least, Thor could take comfort that Loki, of all things he once dreamed of, had remained.

 ---

As Thor addresses his people, (by the _Norns_ , they’re truly _HIS_ people now), he can’t shake the thoughts that have been weaving in and out his mind. A buzz of chatter ever present about Hela’s reveal and subsequent (supposed) death—he has time to dwell on it now. And dwell he does, in his more private moments (in his less private moments too), the thoughts spin round and round even as he addresses concerns about lodging, food, and what they could possibly barter with a ship full of battle-hardened evacuees to a makeshift council of his own.

Thor delegates what he can, but makes explicitly clear that he welcomes (needs) input from the group. Loki and Heimdall interweave their own suggestions (corrections) almost immediately, Korg gives Thor a smile over the table, Thor returns it as best as he can. It will be difficult, but as he proclaimed so boldly—it would work out. Possibly. (It has to).

What they come to agree upon is that no one will exactly be comfortable, trade will have to be established sometime in the near future (food would last about two weeks by Korg’s estimation), and that someone still has to sort through the ship’s cargo for anything to trade with. The nature of their ship was still a mystery ( _“Old Doug just said—if he was going to leave, he was gonna do it in the big blue box,” Korg had offered, with a genial shrug_.)

It’s not ideal, but it’s manageable. They have healers (not nearly enough, they don’t quite have enough of anything really), and they have skilled laborers to help with repairs and many a strong and idle hand—they would survive.

“No chance this is another of the Grandmaster’s leisure vessels is it? We might have trouble trading the ship’s cargo if so.” Thor says it in jest, but he’s already wondering what they could even do at the very real possibility.

Valkyrie smirks, gesturing to the drab practicality of the walls around them. “As hilarious as seeing you two attempt to barter with a sex toy for our dinner would be, unfortunately your Majesty—this place isn’t exactly his ‘style’.”

Well, that was one comfort at least.

It would have to be good enough, even if uncertainty lingers in his mind—he cannot doubt, he cannot waver. Not here, not in front of his people.

It’s harder to believe than it should be.

\---

It’s when they’re sorting through the cargo that the nature of the vessel and Doug’s insistence on procuring it is explained.

The first crates that are opened contain alcohol, numerous bottles of varying shapes and sizes that the Valkyrie sets her sights on immediately. She’s already got one in each hand within moments, taking a swig of a jug as big as the Hulk’s head and filled with a green substance that resembles his skin. (Let it not be said she betrayed her oath.) The next batch of crates are clothing, of different textures and styles, the sizes varied as well. Thor had raised a brow at a few of the patterns and cuts, but they were divied out all the same.

It’s when they stumble upon cutlery and plates (strange patterned and ostensibly too gaudy for Thor’s tastes) that Loki declares, “We’ve stolen the Grand Master’s vila.”

The Valkyrie snorts, already on another bottle, as Hulk tears into a metal container nearby. “It’s nothing so luxurious, we’ve just stolen one of the Grand Master’s bunkers—in the event he’d needed to flee Sakaar with all his favorite courtiers. Doubt he’ll miss it—what with a revolution he’s too busy quashing.”

Korg beams with pride.

\---

Thor considers this is probably how one goes insane, something that would concern him more if he were not ever moving, ever directing (or being directed), ever on his feet.

He is busy, he throws himself into doing what he can with a fervor that no one would suspect. And yet, his thoughts continue to hum, and they hum of all things, of Hela. No matter what he does, how much he does—she sits in his mind’s eye, a snare entrenched.

She is just another of Odin's infuriating paradoxes—was it cruelty or kindness? Even now, Thor begins to see the loss of his father's gossamer deception. Did Odin feel anything when he saw Loki and Thor together? Was he cautious? Did he hope that perhaps this time, he would not drive his children to destruction?

Did...did their mother ever forgive him for banishing Hela?

Frigga was kind to Loki, even in the face of his crimes. (Loki always was her favorite, and Thor thinks, it cut her deep how desperately she wished he’d have been content with her approval instead of Odin’s.) Still, their mother loved them both, even to her final moments.  She could not have swallowed the loss of a child, a daughter, so easily.

Unless...was Frigga not Odin's first wife?

More and more thoughts began to swirl in Thor's mind, there was so much he didn't know of her. How could Odin just drop yet one more mistake at his feet and expect them both to fix it? To just accept it without repercussion?

For all of Thor's confusion, he does understand one thing.

Hela—Thor's avarice and Loki's cunning—the perfect daughter, the perfect weapon.

It is all too easy to picture how desperately she must have fought, how much blood she must have bathed in to appease their father, how she must have kept fighting, fighting, fighting until—

— _sometimes, Thor dreams of the crunch of Midgard's ground on his back. The panic that shivered and seized through his mind as he desperately tried to grasp what went wrong._ _Wasn't this what Father wanted? Would he never see their family again_ —

Midgard, Thor reflects, is far kinder an alternative than Hela had been granted.

He knows exactly the pain, the anger that she must have felt, stewing in her own hatred and confusion.

_Had she not done what Father wanted?_

__

_When could she go home?_

__

_Why had no one come for her?_

Thor feels a wave of nausea hit him, swallowing the bile in his throat. It's all too easy to understand Hela's madness. It was all he felt before, in those weary dusty days in New Mexico.

"Thor." Something bounces off his eye patch with enough force to sting, it doesn't displace it however, and that's what matters at the end of the day. Thor glances down to see the same stopper he had thrown at Loki days before.

_Oh._

It's easier to look at that than the look on Loki's face, concern written in the grimace of his lips even as he fought desperately to hide it.

Thor attempts another smile as he picks it up—it does not seem to comfort Loki.

Instead, the worry lines in Loki's face deepen, even if he does not comment. He reaches for the stopper and takes it from Thor's hand.

"Whatever is festering in your mind—we have no time for it now." An echo from before. _"Hurts, doesn't it? Being lied to."_ Thor could hear it in all the ways Loki never said: _Odin lied to me, too._

“You can read me so well.” It’s meant an insult, it’s said as a declaration. For as well as Thor knows Loki, Loki knows Thor—even with all that has gone between them, there is still much they understand about one another. They should talk, they need to talk—even if as Loki admitted so easily, so cuttingly, how badly words escape them all. _Better to let it burn._

Instead, Loki sighs, moves closer and grabs Thor’s armor to pull him down into a biting kiss. All thoughts of talking - all thoughts in general - flee Thor’s mind. There is silence where Hela, Odin, and all of Asgard, have faded into smoke at the feel of Loki’s lips against his. The kiss is nothing tender, nothing loving, and it’s painful in all the ways that Thor’s craved.

“Come to bed.”

It has been...years, decades, maybe longer since they’ve...done this. Thor feels the excitement vibrate through him all the same.

\---

His first orgasm rips through him so painfully and violently that he almost thinks he’s been shocked by his own lightning. Instead, he touches Loki, softly and slowly, even as Loki frowns at the sentiment—for Loki always had to be difficult.

Only when Thor falls to his knees in front of his brother does Loki truly relax, lets the tension wound so tight inside him loosen.

Thor commits all of Loki to his gaze, his single eye crackling with energy like electricity.

\---

Trading is harder than Thor expected.

Governing in general is—as much as he sought to emulate Odin, there is so much he cannot do. Loki has more finesse, is easily able to weave words and charm—so much so that they come out without groveling, without showing how truly powerless they really are. Loki fills in where Thor’s incompetence shows in such a way that Thor wonders how he ever thought he’d be able to rule on his own.

Even then, a distant part of him, a part that only seems to be driven away by Loki’s touch and returns insistent as soon as it leaves, wonders how close to Odin they measure. As they lay panting next to each other, bruised and bloodied and pleasantly sore, Thor counts the breaths till Loki falls asleep. Or pretends to fall asleep, he never truly does uncoil himself in Thor’s presence outside of sex.

Thor can’t help but wonder if this too, was something Odin could have foreseen—something, something is too brittle and too jagged at the edges for him to even consider it further.

“Go to _sleep_.”

Thor rolls over, ignores the way Loki freezes as he drapes himself over him, and tucks his head between Loki’s shoulder and his neck.

Loki hates the burn of Thor’s beard outside of everywhere but his thighs; Thor, at the moment, can’t bring himself to care.

In the dark, Loki pinches his side sharply—even as he continues to breathe softly.

\---

There’s no avoiding it—still, Thor at least waits until they’ve made it past their first couple of outposts before he brings it up. He also makes sure to do it when everyone else is suitably distracted (Heimdall is constantly at the helm steering the ship, Loki busy trying to suss out what supplies they’ll need, Korg and Hulk helping with odd jobs)—not that he thinks she’ll mind. It’s just, he doubts she’ll want an audience—she may not even answer his request, may throw the giant bottle of flammable swill from Xandar that passes for ale right at him.

Valkyrie has since packed up her uniform, but she still keeps her sword (and a gun) on her hips at all times. She’s changed back into her scrapper uniform, though Thor notes someone’s made modifications—she’s also drinking.

“Well, I feel foolish bringing this as a gift.” Valkyrie looks down from where she’s considering the view on a window sill far above him. She considers the bottle, then him, wiping the alcohol from her lips with a frown.

Thor holds the bottle out stretched to her as one might gift royalty, she raises a brow at the action. After a few seconds of internal debate, she finally throws herself down, landing without so much as a stumble.

“Thought your brother took all the alcohol to trade.” She swipes the gift from him, despite the fact her bottle’s mostly full. “Rat bastard traded most of the good drink before anything else, for spare parts we don’t even need.”

“—Yet. Loki does tend to err on the side of caution.” Thor says, because he’s been delegated to peacekeeper between Loki and everyone that isn’t a regular citizen of Asgard (who, did truly seem to regard his leadership with respect). “This isn’t about my brother however, I actually had something I wished to discuss with you.”

Something about the way Thor says it, or perhaps it’s something about his stance—Valkyrie instantly sighs, taking a swig from her bottle, turning to go take up space on a nearby bench. Thor frowns at the response—he hadn’t even voiced his request yet.

“I knew this would happen, listen—your Majesty, while I’m flattered you’re not exactly my type.” Valkyrie admits, sounding more resigned than apologetic. She empties the rest of her bottle, instead of waiting for Thor’s response. Thor blinks, ever conscious of the bites and bruises Loki carves into his body, the most visible and sensitive of which was on his right bicep. “I want no part of the royal family—no offense—not again, not ever.”  

“No.” Thor interjects immediately, perhaps too much because the movement of his right arm brings Valkyrie’s gaze down to it and then up to his face. She looks speculative. “I’m sorry, no—not anymore, just no.”

“So I can tell, my apologies—” Valkyrie softens, smirking like she finds something about the bite on Thor’s bicep hilarious which he’ll consider later. “What can I help you with?”

“Well…”

\---

“You want to know...about your _SISTER_ , from me?” the way Valkyrie says ‘Sister’ sounds a lot more like the hiss of ‘hag’ Thor remembers her addressing Hela as. Valkyrie is already opening the bottle Thor’s gifted her, taking an angry swig. “Why.”

“I know nothing about her.” It’s truth enough, with all that Loki stole from Odin’s vault, with all he’d squirrelled away from Asgard’s libraries before then even—there was no mention of their sister. No one had ever mentioned her and even now, he feels as if he’s chasing a ghost. “We have no record of her, no one told us of her.”

Something about the statement makes Valkyrie take a harder drink, the action feels strangely…pitiful. Thor quickly adds, “Even your deaths—we had heard of the Valkyrie but never why you all perished, you had all died in a great battle far away, long ago. What you told me on Sakaar was -  is - all I’ve ever known about what happened to Hela.”

“Typical.” Valkyrie belches, the set of her mouth mean and so, so tired. She narrows her eyes, before placing the cap back on the bottle. “Not like Odin made her mad in the first place, kept her going, kept us all going through it all.”

“What do you mean?” Some small part of Thor doesn’t want to pick at this thread, thinks that he’s already lost all of Asgard, he can’t possible continue to unravel more of Odin’s legacy. Thor ignores it, ignores the pounding in his ears. “Please, can you explain—just, what happened to her. What happened to my father, our family—what was Asgard truly?”

Valkyrie sighs, leaning forward, looking older—reminding Thor for the first time that this was a being of legend, that he was asking a favor from an era long past. Still, he needed to know, needed to understand what Asgard truly was.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics...”

\---

Valkyrie tells him everything, at least all that she knows.

Long ago, Thor would have praised the stories, would have called them bright tales of the triumph of Asgard and its might. Now, he sits through it all, listening to the confessions of someone forced to wade through battles worn and mechanical, of a soldier that kept killing, kept stabbing until it was too much and she had lost it all. Long ago, some foolish part of Thor would have seen her as a hero, now he understands why she so badly wishes to drown her mind in drink. What they’d done—the Valkyries, Odin, his army, and of course, Hela—it was monstrous. They’d slaughtered innocents, made examples of families, unspeakable acts committed to produce fear and enforce their reign. There were tactics of battle, his father always strove to avoid, ‘ _unworthy_ ’ he had said, ' _cowardly_ ' even.

And Odin had once done them all, had taught them to Hela, and Hela had excelled at them. Hela had done what their father had asked, her armies were good men, loyal men—they’d followed what their commander had dictated. Even when Odin had banished her, Hela had—Hela had sought to return home. The curl of Valkyrie’s mouth had turned sour, as if recounting something particularly bitter at that moment, and she’d shut down.

Thor doesn’t blame Valkyrie when she stops recounting. She’s given him too much, he understands when she turns pale, drains the bottle next to her and insists with a fierce desperation. “I’m sorry, I can’t—this is all I can tell you.”

Thor had thanked her for her time, even as he desperately wished to press for more. Her answers hadn’t been enough, they’d only stirred  the tempest in his mind. He spends the rest of the day in a daze, barely registering when he returns to his chambers.

Had Thor's friends not once made their way to bring him back? What if his father had not been as forgiving, what if he’d sent them to execute—something about the scenario is too much for Thor, he cannot think of his fallen friends, cannot think of Odin.

Hela had been terrible in her complete need for supremacy, but…so had their Father. And that makes Thor pause, makes him consider her words. _“You see, you never really knew him…not at his best.”_

Later, when Loki finally joins him in their chambers, he forces a meal on Thor. Thor’s not sure how Loki knows, or perhaps he is more perceptive  than he thought, for even later still that night Loki takes him.

Loki swallows down his confusion, the questions dispelling like clouds on a sunny day.

He sleeps with visible bites on his collar and neck, tries not to feel smug as he considers the matching bruises on Loki.

\---

Some of the escapees from Sakaar ask to be returned to their homes, and Thor can't find it in him to refuse. It's not feasible till after they've accumulated enough resources, some live a bit too far to be returned proper, and not all want to leave either (Thor is touched, more than he should be, when Korg and Miek ask to stay on, they’re Asgardians now), but Thor obliges where he can.

That is how they see the wide sweeping novas of far off galaxies, landing in strange new worlds, encountering beings that even Thor had never seen before, all awash in the surreal watercolors of the cosmos.

It occurs to Thor that for many of the Aesir, watching enchanted through observation windows, wonder in their eyes, these moments are their first experiences outside of Asgard. Thor wonders if Asgard’s isolation was perhaps less ideal than he realized. It’s yet another hypocrisy to consider, how the familiarity of the 9 realms are known to all children, yet few of the whole of Asgard have seen the planets around them. The discover is just another that sits heavy in his stomach—how sheltered his people had truly been to the chaos of space.

Sometimes, when the Sakaaran escapees are returned, some Aesir leave with them. It is not unexpected, and they're always assured they're guaranteed a home if they chose to return.

Thor tries not to take it personally.

\---

Thor tried not to take it personally.

He does regardless.

"This is the most the Aesir have chosen to intermingle with the rest of the 9 realms, why are you so cross?" Loki has yet to cease his shared residence in Thor’s room. At first it was out of necessity, so many of them crammed into shared quarters, now—with a quarter of their population and half of the Sakaaran escapees gone, he still has yet to leave.

"I fear for our people." And he does, he also can't help it—he thinks perhaps, if it was Odin, the people would have had more faith—would have stayed—

"Not all of them were allowed the freedom to go gallivanting amongst the stars like we were, if anything, it's better if we're all spread out, in case we're attacked again, they'll be survivors." Loki doesn't bother looking up from his book, and Thor can't help but feel the pressure on his chest. "Don't over think it, we still have too many a mouth to feed."

Loki has given no indication that he's eager to leave, and yet, he never has in the past either. Thor once tried to imagine it, an empty space in his bed, and Loki gone—all gone from his life. It'd hurt more than it should have. He was, after all, the one who told Loki that they were meant for separate paths.

And yet, Loki had returned.

Loki was still here.

Thor lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and shakes his head. "You're right, I'm being foolish."

Loki pauses in his reading, eyebrow raised, amusement in his lips. "It's been too long since I've heard that."

"Don't ruin the moment." Thor laughs, feeling the weight lift off his shoulders.

\---

If Loki ever left, Thor would be lost.

\---

A strange ship hails them a week into their odyssey. Heimdall and Loki both recognize it immediately.

Their reactions vary greatly.

"Exile can't last if there's no Asgard, can it your Highness?" Heimdall's gaze hardening, even as he moves past to delegate clearance for the ship to land. Loki rolls his eyes. In contrast to Heimdall's sudden energy, Loki is strangely conservative in his movements. Almost as if dragging his heels—actually, Thor realizes, Loki was completely dragging his heels.

"If she were on Asgard, she'd have been dead like the rest of them." He remarks, neither of them clarify who they were speaking about. Thor frowns as he tries to consider—for a wild moment, he wonders if Lady Jane had—

"Are you really not going to go greet Lady Sif?" Thor blinks, suddenly and foolishly awash with differing emotions as he realizes belatedly: where had Lady Sif been? Loki has the audacity to look as confused as Thor feels. "Did...you forget? Really?"

Thor doesn't bother to reply, instead he runs as fast as he can to greet the last remaining friend he has alive.

\---

They have done what they can in their limited space—Thor still wants to hold a funeral once they reach Midgard, that’s what Thor tells her anyway after he breaks the awful news to her. Sif (after Thor has to bodily intervene between her reunion with  Loki) does not take the news well. She cries and cries; Thor doesn't join her, the loss has carved itself so deep inside him, he feels it breathe along with him. It should alarm him but, well, a lot of things should alarm him these days but don’t.

Instead, they all sit inside the Grandmaster’s stolen quarters and hold a makeshift vigil (they’ll hold a proper one, a better one, on Midgard) which really amounts to them drinking more of their limited liquor and waxing maudlin about good times while Loki gets increasingly claustrophobic from the memories, Thor’s arm around his waist, or both.

When he finally breaks free of Thor’s hold, and Loki tries to leave the room, it's Sif who stops him.

"Sit back down and drink with us. They were your friends, too—at one point, anyway." She bites out, lining up the dwindling supply of some backwater swill that burns too hard and too quick. Loki makes a face, returning to his seat with a grimace—he takes the offered glass even so.

Yes, Thor thinks as he watches Loki drink a toast forced upon him by Sif, I would be lost without you.

Outwards, he presses his thigh against Loki’s and relocates his arm to drape himself at Loki’s side.

Loki ceases his attempts to leave.

\---

Valkyrie is wrestling Hulk on the cargo deck when they come upon them. The newly vacated space is big enough for them to roughhouse, and Valkyrie barely misses Hulk grabbing her from his back. Sif takes her in with eyes wide, even as Valkyrie flips Hulk over with a laugh and a burp. Somehow at once. Thor sighs, and Loki makes a comment that sounds vaguely like 'how the mighty have fallen'—it falls on deaf ears as Sif watches Valkyrie with reverence.

“She hasn’t given us her name, so we’ve taken to calling her Valkyrie.” Thor says, by way of greeting, since Valkyrie and Hulk seem intent to keep up their sparring and there is nothing to do but wait.

Sif nods, distracted, and Thor realizes that he hasn’t seen her like this. Ever, really—her cheeks are flushed and her smile is soft. Loki, however, does not seem nearly as confused at her reaction. He glances from her to Valkyrie, then pointedly to Thor and the healing scars of a vicious bite to the meat of his shoulder.

“Ah.” He summarizes, unwilling to clarify and smirking larger, if possible at Thor’s confusion. “Really, dear Brother—it’s nothing.”  

\---

Thor makes mistakes.

It doesn’t happen often but it does happen and it feels like it’s something that never seemed to happen under his father’s rule. (A terrible, traitorous part of him, wonders if Hela would have made mistakes, if this is just another sign this legacy was never meant for him after all.)

The mistake in question isn’t anything extremely deadly, though it easily could have been—he’d overestimated the gaps between the stops on their way to Midgard, as a result they’re burning fuel faster than predicted to rush to another planet to trade with. It’s a stupid, foolhardy mistake, and now they’ll truly have to barter with something stolen from Odin’s vault that Loki has since stopped denying he raided. It’s terrifying, how a miscalculation could have led to slow starvation. He can’t stop pacing, even at the news they would be reaching an outpost in two days. Now they’ll have to worry about fuel AND food and—

“Thor, by the _Norns_ , if you don’t cease your infernal pacing then I will cast a sleep spell and have you bedridden until we reach Midgard.” Loki says, still not looking up from where he is trying to draw up plans, considering what to reduce, what they can perhaps spare to eat. Thor blames himself for that too, he should be the one trying to sort out this mess, he shouldn’t have to rely on Loki so heavy handedly to manage what resources they’ll have to allot—that terrible, traitorous part of him is worried that Loki could and would flee—that maybe he’ll tire, like he always used to, of cleaning up Thor’s messes. They still haven’t talked about their…whatever their feelings were even toward each other, of the spectre of Hela and Odin and the grim sight of Surtur burning their home to the ground because of their actions.

It’s as if something in Thor breaks, and he can’t keep all of it inside anymore.

"Perhaps you're better suited to this than I am." It's an ugly thing, earnest in the worst ways and Loki is blank faced as he shrugs.

"We both know that's not true."

"None of this was ever meant for me, even when I thought it was. This, everything was meant for her, for our sister. Our sister who our father cast out—sealed away, who our father sent an army to subdue simply when she tried to escape." And there, there it is revealed for the world to see, how deeply the revelation shakes him. "I think, perhaps, had I refused to learn, I could have sooner appeared at Asgard at his death, wild with fury and mad with it."

Would he have remained in exile as Hela had, what had stopped Odin from banishing him as far as he had her, what had stopped Odin from erasing Thor from everything—just another failure in his quest for an heir. Thor understands, he is not Hela, but he could have been—his father saw this.

And still Odin did not tell him. Did not tell Loki as Loki began to barter with beings far more dangerous than either could have predicted—Odin hadn’t thought to mention anything to his sons at all. What could they have avoided with the forbidden knowledge that they were Odin’s SECOND attempt at decent heirs?

Loki's face is all too knowing when Thor sees it, and Thor can remember the flicker of surprise, of hurt, on Loki's face when Odin had called him 'son' in the end.

"You can't let yourself think about it—"

"—It's what you do."

"And look how well that went. It's done Thor, I realize the supreme irony of ME saying this, but let it go." Loki insists, rising up from his makeshift office, the blinking of various screens around him alerting Thor he was far from finished with his task. “There is nothing we can do—can you not just resign yourself to the knowledge that perhaps our Father was as flawed as we were?”

“Odin traded his eye for wisdom, even with his stolen legacy and the horrors of his throne, he knew better than us.” It must sound insane, something about the phrase feels wrong in Thor’s mouth.

Loki looks at him, upset. 

“Do you not consider you losing your eye to our sister not a trade? You almost shorted out the power two nights ago with your damn electricity. Are you truly going to spend your entire reign measuring yourself against our Father? Our sister who would murder our people?” What a strange time they reside in, Loki is the one demanding sanity while Thor feels himself fraying at the edges. Thor laughs now, mad with it, and oh, he thinks, perhaps they’ve both changed too much. “Thor, you cannot give in to this.”

 _Because I am a lie, we’re a lie, I’m not ready to take the throne, I fear I never will be, I fear I’ll be Hela one day_ —they all dance upon his tongue, he lets out a breath, laughing harder still.

“Brother, I fear I cannot make it stop.” Thor gives Loki, a punched out grin. “I am not as strong as you, or as any of us thought.”

He beats out a hasty retreat, leaving Loki to stew in the anguish of Thor’s making like a coward, hating himself desperately and unable to turn around to see the disappointment in Loki’s face.

\---

He knows his destination, barely focusing on his own footfalls till he arrives at the bridge. Most of the assembled crew are busy with their own tasks, Heimdall doesn’t move from his position at the helm. He doesn’t bother looking up from his navigation at Thor’s approach.

“You must know why I am here.”

“Aye, I’ve been expecting you.” Heimdall is, Thor reflects, conflicted—it's as good as a validation as any. “You’re straying down a dark path, your Highness.”  


“One that I can’t seem to leave.” Thor confirms, joining Heimdall’s gaze towards the stars and the splash of space. “The thoughts in my mind only seem to get worse and worse the more I learn. I can’t stop Heimdall—I’ve never doubted so much before.”

Heimdall doesn’t respond, the rest of the crew are polite enough to give them space, Thor was never much one for appearances anyway, even if he is grateful for the action.

“Perhaps, this is an event where you should heed Loki’s council—he is far more experienced than any of us in matters such as these.” Heimdall finally allows after another beat of silence. “And no, my King, I do not mean for you to abdicate the throne to his stead—the two of you, whether he wished it or not, and no I cannot answer for certain your Father’s intent—are best suited to rule together.”

“Heimdall—I gave the order to destroy our homeland.” It’s, the answer is too simple, Thor instantly distrusts it. Heimdall sighs, and Thor realizes that perhaps, he’d been expecting Thor’s response.

“And your brother carried out the order, but because of your actions our people were able to flee and we avoided extinction. You cannot even begin to comprehend how your actions have changed Asgard for the better, the both of you.” Heimdall finally moves his gaze away from his duties, the sincerity in his eyes is - something about it makes Thor pause and feel, foolishly for a moment, sentimental. Heimdall seems to understand and claps him on the shoulder. “I cannot speak for your Father or your Mother, and I cannot and will not speak for your sister, but trust my words Thor. The people, Asgard, they follow you for a reason. Your reign is not nearly as doomed as you may think, we will thrive and prosper yet again—with less bloodshed and less stolen. You have given us a new beginning, we have lived to see this day.”

Thor feels the air leave his lungs at the weight of Heimdall’s words.

And blessedly, finally, the poison of his mind finally begins to abide.

\---

Thor walks around the ship after the exchange, does a full lap around the entirety of it while he absorbs it all. When he finally returns to his chambers, the last thing he expects is for it to be empty. He suddenly and violently feels fear seize his chest.

He should not have left, Loki would be lost to him again. Once more he’d lost him, and worse, now when he needed Loki more than ever. Thor cannot do anything but stare at the vacated table where Loki’s work still cluttered the space.

It’s only when he feels a painful jab at his side, does he move out of the doorway—even yelping as he jumps back into the room. Loki looks distinctly unimpressed from where he has his hands full juggling two trays full of food from the commissary.

“Either help me or stay out of the way.” Loki says, with less bite than Thor can ever recall him having recently. Thor immediately goes to grab both trays, waiting for Loki to sort out his work and clearing the table before laying both trays down gently. The minute he’s able to set them down, he all but tackles Loki to the bed.

“I had feared—I’m so sorry Brother. I had not meant to leave like that, I hadn’t meant for any of this.” He is desperate, deliriously so, and he moves to kiss Loki, his hands moving to remove his clothing. Loki swats them away with an eye roll. “Do you not wish to—”

"I am to drown in apologies, cease this at once." Loki looks concerned, Thor pulls away, fighting and failing at hiding the rejection from his face. "Thor, stop—we haven’t eaten in hours, we need to at least have something in our stomachs before attempting that."

Had it been...hours?

How often Thor had done this for Loki when they were children, how often Loki would neglect food, wrapped in new books, spells, different tasks so arduously he’d have to physically carry him to the table to eat.

How things had changed.

Thor rose up from the comfort of Loki’s body, his stomach now loudly growling—the sound of which somehow makes the both of them laugh.

“Figures your body would rebel at the idea of you starving.” Loki remarks, even as he rushes to take his place at the table, the smell of the stew he’d brought in makes Thor’s mouth water. “At least I never have to worry about you wasting food—even in your strange mood.”

Thor fights the urge to simply drink the soup down—broth, vegetables, meat—though he eventually gives into it, ignoring the cutlery altogether. Loki makes a derisive sound from across the table.

After moments of Thor’s slurping, Loki coyly picking at his own broth before eventually eating it with more gusto than Thor expected, Loki says simply. “ Once I’d wished that you’d felt a fraction of what I did—that you, chosen Thor, golden Thor, would realize what it was like to have everything be a lie. To question what your role in Odin’s grand plan was.”

Thor lowers his bowl, the contents empty. He rubs at the bits of broth on his beard with his wrist even as Loki gives him an unimpressed look at the action.

“You must have enjoyed this then.” He’s not angry, far from it, he thinks once he would have been.

"I don't.” Loki’s expression is shuttered, Thor knows it well, the small moments where Loki would relent and for just a moment, a brief moment, Thor would see the brother he loved so very deeply, in so much pain. Loki ceases playing with his silverware, Thor can see from here that the bowl is empty for him as well. “It was painful, to watch the person you love fall and keep falling, so that no matter what you do to try and distract them, to bring them back—they can’t see you or hear you. I...suppose, in a way, I understand now how you felt.”

“ _You’re the God of Mischief, but you could be so much more_.” It feels faintly mocking thinking of it now, and yet Thor can’t help it when his own words ring in his head. Ragnarok, the death of Asgard, and perhaps the end of the stagnation between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.” Thor finally admits, feeling small and foolish but suddenly so light, his mind clear. “I...I should have.”

“I wasn’t letting you.” Loki admits, with a shrug. “It’s not our nature to talk and I thought—I thought perhaps I could have driven it out of you.”

“With bedsport? Brother, that sounds like something I would have come up with.” Thor says, and giving into the urge, slides his feet across Loki’s, desperate to touch him. Loki snorts but allows the action regardless.

“I didn’t say it was a good plan—it is, after all, something you would come up with.” Loki says, getting up from his spot at the table and abandoning their dishes for now, “are you really going to complain now?”

Thor recognizing the glint in his eyes, immediately gets up from the table, and begins to take off his armor.

“Of course not.”

\---

"She is the goddess of death, you know." Thor doesn't look up from his small vigil, private and tucked away in this corner of the ship. Forever in isolation—at least, he hopes, she'll laugh that her vigil was similar to Odin’s. Or perhaps...maybe that's what she wanted, Thor can't ever truly know. "Thor, she could just be biding her time."

"She could." Thor continues to let the candles burn, watches the wax drip slowly down the edges. Loki makes an irritated noise. "And she is more than welcome to come back and attempt to overthrow me, as you will inevitably do when the mood strikes you."

"I've had my fill of the throne." Loki's tone is jovial but Thor knows, can see the tightness around his eyes, knows that Loki can never truly renounce Asgard, it's in his blood as much as the Jotun that he never speaks of. Loki will probably always blame himself for Ragnarok, just as Thor will—to the end of their days even when they return Asgard to it's former glory. "Besides, you seem to have forgotten that she was a supremacist with no qualms about killing you, me, or your friends."

"True." He is not Hela, neither is Loki, they will never be her. There are times, and there will be times, that the fear will grip him—even then, he knows that they will avoid her fate. Together, Loki and Thor can manage their demons, even if it’s never perfect, they’re learning. Besides, Hela is of Asgard, and she is of Odin's family. He's so very tired of 'the golden sham' of their line—he will keep searching for her story, then he will teach of her, the true horrors—it will not be glorious, and it will not be pleasant. But it is his reign, his duty—he cannot leave Hela to Asgard's ashes, to the books long lost, bits of plaster now reduced to dust."She is our sister, we cannot ignore her. We are not our Father."

"Well, when you put it like that." Loki drawls, even as he finally joins Thor on the floor. "When she arrives, I'll be sure to tell her this delightful anecdote of how we both held vigil for her as she stabs us."

Thor turns, and oh, Loki's profile in this soft candlelight is almost enough to undo him. His words, equally so. He feels, as if he has lived so many lifetimes in the past five years, and yet, he understands there will be more. There is always more for him to learn.

"I love you." He thinks, more so than says, and Loki pauses mid-chant to stare at him.

"You want to do this here?" Loki's madness hasn't faded, or perhaps he's accepted it—just as Thor's avarice has been tempered, folded into himself and softened—it's a part of him.

"Why not?"

Loki's lip twitches, even as he looks pointedly at the candles around him. Thor shrugs. "Best to let her know right now, before she arrives and has a heart attack. You know, I don't think she even realized you were adopted—"

"Thor."

"I love you, I don't say it enough." Thor continues, reaching for Loki's hand. Jest over. "We may be the remainders of our father's legacy—but we are not him. I am not her."

Loki considers him for a minute, before pressing some of the cold of Jotun into Thor's fingers. It burns, but well, it's a lot less painful than being stabbed. Thor doesn't let go—the sudden frost stops, warmth following in a tenderness that Thor knows was what Loki wanted to convey but couldn't. They'll have to work at this.

They have plenty of time to get it right.  Maybe even by Midgard, they’re ever improving, making up for all the that time lost.

"You're not—now come along and finish this redundant vigil with me. Lady Sif is insisting on you and I accompanying her to rescue the Valkyrie. Again. Leave that drunken fool to do one simple mission and suddenly we have to rescue her from yet another bloody brawl."

Thor turns back to the makeshift altar, to a goddess who may or may not even be dead, to a sister he never knew, and a tyrant he overthrew. They will leave this altar, yet Thor will visit it often. Even when they reach Midgard, he will board this ship, and look upon it. A reminder, of so many things.

"I love you too, you big idiot." Thor hears when he finally rises, holding out his hand to Loki to help him up. Loki's head is bowed low, and expression unreadable.

He takes Thor's hand regardless.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok this started out as a character study of the parallels between what Thor could have been (re: Thor in first movie) and Hela and how much of that was Odin's fault really and it just wildly escalated. I may write more from Loki and Sif's point of view/ok maybe just an excuse to write more Lady Sif/Valkyrie and just have this big gay expedition to get to Earth. 
> 
> To be honest, just give me a thousand fics of post-Thor 3 shenanigans of Thor and his big gay crew fucking shit up and just living ala Star Trek out in space and exploring.


End file.
